


Heel, Sit, and if You Stay Right Here...

by nobody_of_importance



Category: MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, F/M, Werewolf, Werewolves, au werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobody_of_importance/pseuds/nobody_of_importance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolves are not meant to be lonely, but Ray Toro has no real pack. His bandmates are a great makeshift family, but what he needs is someone who understands what it's like to feel the itch of fur beneath human skin, the ache of bones bent into a new shape.</p><p>Maybe what he needs is the she-wolf he crosses paths with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

  


###  **Him**

###    
It felt good to be back in Jersey for once. Tour was tiring and made everyone homesick and lonely, despite the fact that we lived practically in each other’s faces. In fact, as soon as we stopped Frank had immediately leapt off the bus to go visit with Jamia, and Bob had decided he wanted some alone time, so Mikey, Gerard, and I all headed out to hang at the bars we used to frequent. Even though there wasn’t a local band playing, just the hired hands at the joint, the Stone Pony was the place to be. It always had been.  
We slid into a booth as the band rattled off the usual tunes, “Piano Man,” things by Dylan, even “Sympathy for the Devil.” The woman on the piano was singing her heart out as she played, the band behind her looking like they were having the time of their lives. Mikey was singing along under his breath, nodding a bit, making Gerard and I grin.  
“Not visiting Christa?” Gerard asked, and I winced. I’d been avoiding coming clean about that, if only because it was a painful topic for me.  
“Not this time.” _Not ever again_.I shook my head with a sigh, wishing that Mikey didn’t have to suddenly tune in. It was great that the guys cared, and all, but still… men don’t always want to talk about their feelings. At least not to each other.  
“What happened?” Gerard frowned in sympathy, following his question with a swig of beer.  
“I, um, decided to explain my… “little problem” to her.” I coughed a bit, using that as an excuse to take a rather large gulp of beer, and wound up choking on that and coughing again. “She didn’t take it well.” I rasped, my eyes still watering from the incident with the too-big gulp.  
Gerard sighed and patted my shoulder in sympathy as Mikey frowned, shaking his head.  
“I’m sorry, man. Guess she just wasn’t the right one.” Mikey always made sense, even when he was pointing out the painfully obvious.  
“Yeah, guess not.” I looked down into my tankard, swilling my beer again, lost in thought. What had gone wrong? The guys had been fine when I finally coughed up my little secret. A little weirded out, sure, but they all adjusted quickly. Accepted it. I’d never told a girlfriend before, but that was because I’d never wanted to propose to one before. Christa had been something special. Why couldn’t she handle the news? She’d laughed it off at first, thinking it was a joke, until I’d proven it… then she’d just walked out. Said she was done. That was it. Literally, “I’m finished here.” And out the door.  
“Hey, it means you’re back in the game, though.” Gerard broke through my reverie, my eyes jumping from the swirling beer up to his face. “You can hit on anything with boobs, now.” He was trying to cheer me up, so I tried to smile. “I know it sucks, Ray, but it’ll work out. You’ll find someone.”  
“Oh, I know, Gee.” I agreed with another hearty sigh. I was really getting into the whole pity party thing. Time to quit the beer; rum and Coke, anybody? “It’s just never easy for… for somebody like me.”  
“Don’t _make_ it hard.” Mikey said, standing up and dragging me with him, Gerard following. I knew exactly what was going on.  
Sure enough, they dragged me over to the bar and sat me right where I could scope out the entire place. Or rather, the entire _populace_ of the place. For the Ways’ sakes, I halfheartedly gave the women in the place a once-over, earning a few glares from overly-jealous boyfriends and husbands, a couple “come hither” looks and gestures from women that had to be prostitutes, and a skeptical look or two. I glanced over at the woman on piano, realizing she was younger than she’d looked from the back of the bar. She’d made no obvious effort to tame her shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair other than tucking it behind her ears, and she was wearing Converse. Something about that just made me smile, seeing her looking so casual when all the other women were trying way too hard.  
Her eyes roved the modest crowd as she played and sang, scanning over everyone, including Gerard, Mikey, and I. Looking back at her piano’s keys, she smirked as she sang, finishing out the song and looking up at the band on the stage, which the piano was next to, down on everyone else’s level.  
The drummer kicked off the song, and the pianist started a familiar tune, glancing over at me with a wicked grin as she sang the first line.  
“I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand, walking through the streets of SoHo in the rain.”  
Gerard and Mikey cracked up, elbowing me, not noticing anything odd as the singer went back to looking around at everyone again.  
“It’s a sign, man, get out there and get it on. Tonight’s your night!” Gerard exclaimed with a laugh.  
“She knows. She did that on purpose.” I shook my head, staring at her without really realizing it, panicking. How could she know? She wasn’t _allowed_ to know! If she knew, she had to be…. I would pretend I didn’t make the connection. But if she went and publicly called me out, sure, the human society would laugh her off, but we’d have to deal with her.  
“What the hell?” Mikey asked, looking at me incredulously, looking at the woman, then back at me. “How could she?”  
At that moment, she threw her head back and howled, just like in every other version of the song.  
The men in the bar clapped appreciatively, some of the ones closer to drunk howling along, all of them impressed by the note she hit. Even Gerard and Mikey grinned over it, but the hair on the back of my neck stood up.  
So that was how she knew. She was hiding in plain sight, a lot like I was.  
She dropped her head back to face her keys, then looked up again, her wicked brown eyes meeting mine, and she grinned, flashing straight, white teeth that were probably just a little too long and sharp to be normal.  
  


###  **Her**

###  It was rare, but sometimes someone like me wandered into the bar. They were usually alone, but sometimes they came in overly clingy pairs, too glad to have found someone like them to loosen their death grip. It was comical, really, the way they clung so pathetically to each other or over exaggerated the whole “lone wolf” thing.  
That night, one had come in with two normal people. I’d known him right off, but he’d been too distracted to notice me. That was how it always went. I was hiding in plain sight. Almost comparable to the wolf in lamb’s clothing. And that disguise only lasts so long.  
Knowing that, I let him be for a while. He seemed to be sulking, the two humans he was with cheering him up. Or trying to, at least. He seemed to be doing a pretty decent job of being bummed. After a while, I decided to see just how oblivious he was, lost in his own little pity party, and started the song I used to tip off the others who wandered in.  
The boys in my band didn’t know anything other than it was my favorite song, and I sometimes liked to play it, despite it being so far from Halloween. They didn’t question me, mostly because they liked to hear me play it as much as the drunks. I always got so many compliments on that howl of mine.  
It looked like his friends knew his little secret, because they laughed and started joshing him as soon as the song started off. He obviously realized I had him figured out, because the panic on his face was priceless. It took him a good minute to work out that it was perfectly okay for me to know because I was there, too.  
I finished the song, finished out my set, then wandered over to the bar to collect the band’s paycheck for the night. I was a few people away from the shaggy-haired man who I’d upset, and if I cared to listen in, I’m sure I would’ve heard his friends encouraging him to talk to me; even just from the corner of my eye, it certainly _looked_ like they were doing that.  
The bartender handed over the check and my usual, to go, and I nodded to him, unintentionally catching the other man’s eye as I turned to go. He was watching me, and seemed to be surprised and somewhat guilty to be caught in the act. I snickered slightly, grinning wickedly, then shook my head in amusement as I walked away.  
My band mates punched my arms, one of them putting an arm around my shoulder as they joked about having caught that guy checking me out. I just laughed them all off.  
  
Later that night, I curled up on top of my blankets and stared out at the black night sky with all the light grey stars, thinking. He shouldn’t have been allowed to tell his friends about what he was. The guy from the bar, that is. That was against the rules. Not that I would ever tell on him, but still… it had to be better than having to keep such a big secret. Just being like this was isolating enough, but to have to be alone in the knowledge of it… that sucked even more.  
I sighed, my head rising then slowly sinking back onto my paws. I’d gone full wolf, just because I liked to sleep like that. I curled up, my tail wrapped around me, and watched the world in shades of grey. The sunsets were no less beautiful, and the constellations shone just as bright. There was no moon that night, but that didn’t bother me. She was nothing special.  
With another sigh, I got up rather slowly, changing back into what other people, people not like me, would call “normal,” getting slowly off my hands and knees on the bed to pad quietly over to my bathroom, getting water. Something of the wolf tended to lurk in every aspect of my life, every move I made, as it did with all the others. It was inescapable.  
My apartment was almost painfully quiet. I’d wanted to get a dog, by my landlord wouldn’t allow it, and cats and I weren’t really a good mix… so I was on my own, discounting the fish in the tank on my kitchen counter. I listened to the sounds the old building made almost without realizing, I was so used to them. The creaking ceiling meant Mr. Jarvis was pacing in his room above me again, and the bass coming through the wall was next door’s teenager trying to listen to his music without waking his parents. The plumbing was gurgling again, which meant someone on floor six or above was taking a _very_ cold shower. As if on cue, I heard the faint shout of the poor idiot getting in without checking the water’s temperature first.  
Yup, just a night in the life of your average werewolf.  



	2. Two

###  **Him**

###    
I couldn’t get my mind off of her.  
She wasn’t overly pretty, she was really nothing special. Her singing voice wasn’t even really that good, and she was no mean hand at the piano. What she was, however, was one of _us_.  
That was rare. There was no shortage of us, by any means, we were many, but still… we were hard to find, even for each other. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A needle that someone had painted yellow.  
I sighed, turning onto my other side in my bed. My house was very quiet without the guys’ assorted snores, the bus engine growling along, the asphalt rumbling beneath the worn-out tires.  
This was always the hardest time.  
It takes a certain amount of focus to stay fully human. Without the focus, the sharper eyesight, sharper hearing, quicker reflexes, sharper teeth and nails start to leak into us. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but try falling asleep when you can hear a conversation going on in a passing minivan in addition to four separate sets of snores and assorted engine and road sounds. Plus the bus driver’s iPod. Even now, alone in my familiar house, the lack of sound seemed almost deafening, as was the symphony of crickets and frogs when they finally broke through the blanket of silence.  
Giving in, I let myself become a full wolf, sprawling on my side on the bed. The others I’d spoken to had also confessed to a preference of sleeping in this state, though none of us knew why we liked it best. There were some who didn’t enjoy it, but there would always be a mixed opinion. I just knew two things from all that: 1) it’s totally normal for a werewolf to sleep as a wolf and 2) it makes relationships damn hard when you’re trying to fall asleep next to a human chick without letting yourself turn even the least bit.  
I heaved another sigh, shifted around, then went back to human, suddenly seizing my pillow and flinging it violently across the room where it hit the wall hard, then slid down with a very soft sort of “flumpf” sound. It smelled like _her_.  
No, not the woman from the bar. It was worse than that.  
It smelled like Christa.  
That one whiff had set off a cacophony of memories, other scents tied to hers, everything just washed over me, flooding both my senses and my mind, driving me to bury my hands in my hair and try to crush everything out.  
I needed to get out of the house.  
I slipped out the back door, then loped into the woods. I lived near the park, and it was deserted when it was this late. No one would notice the large, reddish wolf lurking in the bushes, under the trees. It was a good place to get away.  
When I got to the park, I looked around, wondering how many times before I had run here, to this very place, for whatever reason. Even as a kid, I’d always come here. I never knew why, it wasn’t like the park was particularly special, I didn’t even come here with my brother or my parents. I just came here to get away.  
I started nosing about, just for something to do, ignoring the night life. The bats overhead, the brave fox that ignored me in return, none of that mattered as everything carried on with its life. A shadow caught the corner of my eye, and I would have ignored it, too, had it not frozen in place. My hair stood on end, and I knew it was watching me, so I looked up.  
It was another wolf, and, though I saw in black and white, I could tell he was a deeper, darker brown than me. A natural color for a wolf. And it was normal size.  
His head was lowered as he watched me, hackles slightly raised, and I could tell he was contemplating challenging me. Normally, I wouldn’t worry. He was smaller, and I was stronger than any normal wolf. I was just worried about rabies, because anything that small that was thinking about taking me on for no reason had to be out of its mind.  
I flattened my ears, baring my teeth slightly and raising my hackles as I growled softly, hoping the wolf would back down.  
I was surprised when the other wolf snarled, taking an aggressive step toward me and starting to circle to one side. This one _wanted_ a fight. He wasn’t sick, though. I’d have been able to smell it if he was, there would have been signs. He was just… suicidal?  
I hesitated, and the wolf took the opportunity to lunge at me. He managed to bite me in the shoulder, and I yelped in pain as I threw him off, though it took me a few tries.  
The wolf backed off to circle me again, his tongue darting in and out as he licked the blood from his teeth. His snarl lessened as it did so, and he tilted his head slightly, his brown eyes fixing on me with a surprising amount of intelligence. The wolf hesitated, eyeing me for a moment, then abruptly turned away.  
I sat down in confusion for an instant, then decided he wasn’t getting off so easy. I was mad as hell about the whole thing with Christa, frustrated with my lot in life, and this goddamn wolf had bitten me and decided to walk away. That wasn’t happening.  
I lunged after the wolf with a snarl, only to be met with tearing teeth and a well-placed claw. I was by no means a fighter, and this wolf seemed to have experience. I did, however, manage to draw blood from his flank, making the wolf snarl in anger rather than yelp in pain.  
He turned on me, backing me up as he reared and clawed at me, trying to bite my head, and I went low then leaped up, trying to knock him off-balance.  
The wolf’s teeth locked around the back of my neck, and I knew I was in trouble. If I died, the police would be called in the morning when kids reported to their moms about a dead dog by the swings, and the guys would never know what had happened to me. Just because they knew about me didn’t mean they would make the connection, if they were even aware that a wolf’s body had been found. Plus, I didn’t _want_ to die. I still had so much to do, so much to live for.  
I bit the wolf hard in the leg, and his grip loosened enough for me to break free, though I’d have a bloody neck for a few days. I managed to get my jaws around a decent piece of the wolf’s side and throw him on the ground, raising a small dust cloud. The wind was knocked out of him with a soft involuntary bark because of how hard he hit the dirt, and he turned so he was laying down, almost ready to get up, as he collected himself.  
I shifted to stand over him, snarling, ready to rip into him. He’d attacked me on a bad day. He just glanced up at me out the corner of his eye, shifting slightly. His movement seemed to cause a spasm of pain, and his eyes closed as his mouth opened in a breathless pant that seemed to be half snarl.  
I licked my teeth clean, getting ready to shred the wolf beneath me, then paused. That didn’t taste like normal wolf blood. That tasted like there was human in it. I stared down at the wolf, realizing he had backed off when he tasted my werewolf blood. He was one of us.  
I backed off, watching as the wolf got up, though he heavily favored his right front paw. The wolf glared at me, his brown eyes hard and teeth bared. He seemed to expect me to keep coming at him.  
I dropped my ears, tail, and head, stepping forward hesitantly to show I meant no harm, but the other wolf snarled, lunging forward only to fall back, pain in his eyes, as I retreated. His ribs seemed to be the cause of his pain rather than his injured leg, judging by the way he was having trouble breathing. He must have broken one or two when I threw him down. I started forward again, and the wolf lunged in return, but lost his balance as he tried to move too quickly without jostling his bad side, making him fall, and he landed with a pained yelp. He struggled to get up for a moment, then seemed to give up with a sigh, almost deflating as I watched. I padded over, ready to jump out of the way should he attack again, and moved behind him. His tension was palpable, but I ignored that, gently grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and helping to haul him upright.  
He’d backed off as soon as he realized I wasn’t a normal wolf and he wasn’t in danger, and I shouldn’t have attacked him from behind. No wolf, normal or not, fought like that. Especially since he was so small.  
Now, he glared at me warily, mistrustful, but in too much pain to do much about it.  
I could tell it was pure luck that I’d gotten in that shot. Well, pure luck and dirty fighting. This wolf would have shredded me in a fair fight. He gave me a look that made it very clear he wanted me gone, so I lowered my head in apology and turned away.  
When I glanced over my shoulder, looking back from the tree line, I could just see the silhouette of a person, limping slightly down the dark sidewalk.  
  
“Rough night?”  
I looked up from my guitar, jerked out of my head by Frank’s voice. The shorter man was smiling, but there was concern in his eyes. He’d heard all about Christa from Gerard and Mikey, and I was willing to bet that Bob knew, too.  
“A bit. Didn’t get much sleep.” That, and my neck hurt like hell, as did my shoulder. That wolf had done a number on me, and there was no magic to just make it all go away. The guys had all seen my scratched up neck, but they’d seen me after fights before. They usually just asked if the other one was okay.  
“Find a stray dog to fight with?” Frank nodded at my neck, assuming that it was a minor fight. In reality, the damage really was watered down quite a bit. My shoulder was the worst because it had really just been defense for the other wolf after the first attack. He hadn’t been trying to maim me.  
“’Nother wolf.” I shrugged, my shoulder immediately telling me just how stupid that was by hitting me with a painful twinge. I’d hidden _that_ mess under a long-sleeved tee shirt, knowing the guys would freak out if they saw it. I’d bandaged it up and cleaned it out and everything, but they would want me to go get stitched up. “We just kind of walked away.”  
“You would.” Frank rolled his eyes, though his mockery was good-natured.  
“Are we going out, or what?” Bob asked, finally walking in. We’d all agreed to meet at my place, then walk over to a random bar. It was the band’s night out, and we were ready to go. Gerard and Mikey had come first, then Frank. The three of them, and Bob as well, were in good spirits.  
Frank led us off to the Stone Pony, and Gerard and Mikey kept their mouths shut, seeming to have forgotten all about the wolf on the piano. There was a man singing that night as he played the bass, the rest of the band keeping up. It was impossible to see who was on the piano because of all the people in the way, but we could hear it clanging away through the haze.  
Gerard was talking about ideas for our next concept album, something about ray guns that usually would have captivated my attention, but I just wasn’t focusing. It was hard for me. I couldn’t relax since that whole thing with Christa, and the previous night, that fight with the wolf, was bothering me, too.  
“Ray!” I jerked out of my reverie to find all the guys staring at me in concern.  
“We’ve been trying to talk to you for the last three minutes…” Gerard said slowly, and I blinked, trying to come the rest of the way back to reality. “Are you feeling okay?”  
“Yeah. Fine. Just a little upset, is all.” I knew the guys wouldn’t pick on me for being hung up on Christa; they respected how I felt about her, just like we respected each other’s relationships. They also tiptoed around the issue of me being alone in that I was the only werewolf in the band, on the bus, on tour… they made every joke under the sun, sure, but they realized that it was hard to be alone with something like that. They also knew I’d never admit that I was lonely.  
“We’ve only got one more song for you tonight.” The bassist onstage spoke up, and we all glanced over reflexively. “See ya again soon.” After the song, which we all listened to, hoping it would relieve some of the awkward tension between us, the band dispersed, the guitarist striding over to the bar to pick up the tab for the night.  
It was only by chance that I happened to glance back over and notice the werewolf from the night before standing up from behind her piano. She glanced around, noticing me noticing her, rolled her eyes, then looped her left arm around the drummer’s shoulders. She was limping slightly, and keeping her right arm as still as possible.  
 _It was her_. I realized. _She was the one I fought last night. That’s why she’s so small! She’s a chick. Crap, I beat up a woman_. I groaned inwardly at myself, but Mikey realized I was staring at the woman again.  
“Go talk to her.” Mikey encouraged softly, trying not to let Frank overhear. That man couldn’t help but be obnoxious and overbearing, even though he never meant any harm.  
“Why?” I asked. She’d figure out it was me she was fighting, and have even less of a reason to play nice than when I was just some lonely stranger who wanted a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Not that Mikey knew she was the one I’d fought, though.  
“What’s the worst that could happen?”  
“Why’d you say that?” I groaned, letting my head drop onto my arm on the table, only to be prodded repeatedly in the side by Mikey.  
“Just do it, before she leaves. The rest of them are staying, look.”  
I looked up as Mikey ordered, and, sure enough, the guys in the band were settling down at a table as the woman stood, looking uncomfortable in every way possible. She also seemed slightly annoyed, nodding to the door, but the men just waved her off. Rolling her eyes, she turned and started walking slowly towards the door.  
I sighed, knocked back the rest of my beer, then got up, halting all conversation at the table as the guys watched me go. I knew they would all be staring, narrating what was going on and ordering me around, even though they knew I wouldn’t hear them over all the white noise in the bar.  
“Hey.” I said, catching up with the woman just outside the door. She turned rather quickly, looking defensive, only the pain in her eyes marking her as potential prey to other predators.  
“Yeah?” She asked, looking wary. Her eyes dropped to the scratches on my neck, and she raised her eyebrows but said nothing else.  
“I’m sorry. About last night.” I said haltingly, reaching up to rub the back of my neck as I liked to do when I was awkward, then thinking the better of it. “I didn’t realize you were one of us, and-”  
“Save it.” She shook her head. “I don’t care. Excuses won’t change anything, and neither will apologies. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.” She turned around and began her slow way back down the dark sidewalk. Alone. In Jersey.  
“Wait.” I said, reaching out only to suddenly pull my hand back as she turned to look at me. “Can I at least walk you home? This _is_ Jersey.” I tried to smile, but she didn’t look impressed.  
“Oh, why not?” The woman sighed, giving in, and I stepped up beside her, letting her lean on me to take some pressure off her bad side. She shot me another wary look, then leaned on me. Werewolves didn’t always get along, but we were a pack of sorts, and pack stuck together.  
Her apartment building was only a few blocks away, but she was in a lot of pain by the time we got there. She protested when I started helping her up the stairs to the door, and then all the way to the lift, but I knew she wouldn’t have made it otherwise.  
“Thanks.” She mumbled gruffly as she stopped outside a particular door. 394B was her place, apparently. “You didn’t have to do that.”  
“I wanted to.” I replied automatically. “And I’m sorry about last night, I really am.” I added.  
“Even for a wolf, you’ve got those puppy eyes down.” She observed, leaning on her doorframe. “Belle.” She continued, holding out her hand.  
I smiled slightly, shaking it. “Ray.”  
“I’ll ask if I don’t know something.” Belle said, sounding almost amused. “Carl, our drummer, likes the band you’re in. He pointed you  & your friends out last night.”  
“Oh.” I said, not really sure what else to say.  
“They’re not broken.” Belle said after an awkward beat of silence. “My ribs.” She explained, seeing my blank look. “I’ll be singing again in no time.”  
“Look, I’m really-”  
“Stop apologizing.” Belle rolled her eyes, though she really didn’t seem annoyed. “Just get back to your friends so Carl doesn’t jump them for awkward, I’m-your-biggest-fan pictures.”  
Once again, I really couldn’t think of what to say. I smiled crookedly, and her face softened from its guarded mask, almost hinting at a smile. She nodded to me, and I waved in return right before she shut her door in my face.  
As soon as it closed, I whacked myself in the face with a quiet groan.  
 _Seriously? Did I really just wave_?  
  


###  **Her**

###    
Carl nearly earned a smack in the face the next night, endlessly interrogating about why “Ray fucking Toro of the greatest band in the Universe” walked me home. And why I didn’t get his number.  
I nearly earned a smack by sticking to the argument that “none of you goons would walk a hurt chick home after dark.” They all thought I’d been injured being mugged, rather than in a fight with a werewolf, so they all got a little touchy over that, knowing they had been tipsy and stupid. On the other hand, though, I’d proven time and again that I could take care of myself… with a few exceptions.  
“Oh my god, they’re here again.” Carl hissed, glancing over at the booth in the corner. We were sitting at our own table before we were set to play, and I was sitting with my back to whoever Carl was looking at, though it really wasn’t hard to guess. “What if they like our band? What if they want us to open for them?!” His whisper got louder as he got more excited, but Bill hit him before I could. Bill was the bassist, and I was probably closest to him out of all the guys. I told him almost everything – there was still one big secret between us concerning the fact that I was part wolf – and he told me just as much.  
“Be cool, man. You’ve been reading too many Cinderella stories.” Bill rolled his eyes, tugging the end of his sleeve back into place and re-settling more comfortably into the wooden chair. “We play classic rock in a bar. We’re not exactly tour material; just background noise.”  
“That could be our name! Background Noise.” Carl grinned like a moron, staring off into space, and Bill and I shared a look, silently begging each other for a mercy killing. Jason, our guitarist, just sighed and knocked back the rest of his beer.  
“Out-of-Control-Hair’s checking you out again.” Bill said to me, pretending to be checking his tuning between songs.  
“That so?” I raised my eyebrows disinterestedly. Apparently, even rock stars got desperate when it came to being a werewolf. He would cling. It was probably time to wash my hands of him and tell him to get lost. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, and he would just go on tour or move to California like a normal celebrity.  
I had the sudden, burning desire that California and everyone there would just break off from the rest of North America and float away after the next massive earthquake to become their own, unsuccessful little country-continent. Like a Mini Me of Australia, except less awesome.  
“Definitely staring.” Bill confirmed, hopping back onstage and nodding as if he could continue, having fixed his nonexistent problem.  
“Great.” I muttered, too low for the mike to pick up, then started singing the song the boys had picked. It was slower than usual, more piano-focused. I quickly realized that was because Carl had run to the bathroom, leaving Jason to drum for a bit. I rolled my eyes, knowing that the spazz would hurry back, and kept on singing “The Riddle” by Five for Fighting.  
We played out our set, and Carl bounced over to get our due and Jason went to get a drink, leaving me with Bill.  
“Oh, look, he’s got a wingman.” Bill said softly, looking at something over my shoulder, and I turned to see Ray approaching with the blonde guy from his band. What had Carl said his name was? Bert?  
“Hey, Belle.” Ray nodded, and I nodded back. “This is Bob.” _That’s his name_!  
“This is Bill.” I introduced my friend, who was blatantly staring Ray down. The werewolf, despite being more than a match for my skinny best friend, actually seemed cowed by his gaze, and was looking anywhere but at him. At that moment, I felt a completely justified amount of pride for Bill.  
“Hey.” Bob nodded, then started talking to Bill about something completely irrelevant, and Ray looked up at me.  
“Subtle wingmanship.” I nodded at Bob and Bill, who had actually managed to find something in common and struck up a real conversation.  
“Sorry.” Ray grinned a crooked, sheepish smile, and I shrugged, forgiving him. “I just wanted to talk to you.”  
“Can’t say it in front of Bill?” I teased.  
“Not unless Bill is aware you could go for a walk at either end of a leash.”  
“Touché.” I nodded, then glanced at Bill. He looked over at me, and I nodded slightly. My friend winked, then I offered Ray my arm, which he took without hesitation. We walked outside, into the brisk night air, and I took a deep breath, almost chilled. I broke with Ray to uncuff the sleeves of my plaid shirt and roll them down, then crossed my arms.  
Ray gave me a look, and I knew what was coming.  
“If I wanted your jacket, I’d probably ask for it, considering you dragged me out here.” I said before Ray could get in a word. “I’m not exactly shy, and I’m a bit blunt when it comes to manners.” So maybe I was trying to scare him off. A bit. I hated clingy men, and that’s what werewolves were, clingy and possessive.  
“Relax, I’m not interested. Not like that, at least.” Ray replied, quirking an eyebrow, and I nearly smiled.  
“Wow, you know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you, Casanova?” I shuffled my crossed arms a bit, trying fruitlessly to generate some heat as we walked slowly down the sidewalk.  
“Sorry. Romance isn’t my strong suit.” Ray winced, and I could tell I’d somehow touched a nerve.  
“I know the feeling.” I allowed myself a confession, though I played it off as a flippant “yeah, I’ve got issues, too” sort of comment.  
We walked in silence for a long while, passing as many dark streetlamps as functional ones. Few cars were out on the city streets, but we weren’t complaining. We could see just fine.  
“Are there a lot of us here?” Ray broke the silence as we came up on a fenced-off old gas station, long boarded up and out of use. The chain link was rusty but held when I climbed up and over, dropping lightly onto the cracked, weed-riddled concrete below. Ray followed, landing only slightly less quietly than I.  
“No. There are drifters, but no one permanent.” I shrugged, unbothered by that. “We’re not exactly AA, it’s not like have meetings with nametags or anything, so maybe there’s a few lying low somewhere, but I doubt it. From what I hear, a lot of us are either out west or down south. Less rules, more room to run. Down south, they even still have bogeymen.” I raised my eyebrows at Ray, looking over my shoulder at him, halting my exploration of the grounds. “Why?”  
“Just wondering.” Ray shrugged, following me. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally fight any of them.” He deadpanned, and I nearly grinned again.  
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” I nodded, and we continued on in silence for a while, stepping childishly onto chunks of rubble from the decaying building. I wobbled slightly atop a large chunk, regaining my balance as the rock stopped shifting under me, and looked over at Ray again. “Why’d you keep fighting, anyway?”  
“Why’d you start a fight?” Ray retorted, and I rolled my eyes.  
“You looked like you were going to shred me, no _way_ were you getting away with that.” I scoffed.  
“I did not!” Ray protested, and I shot him a look.  
“You are one upset man.” He stopped, one foot resting on a chunk of concrete, and looked up at me, floored. “It’s not hard to work out. In fact, I’ve seen it before. You had a pretty little _normal_ girl, brilliant move, and now you’re _shocked_ because, guess what? She doesn’t want the monster from her closet crawling into bed with her.” I rolled my eyes. “Now’s the part where you get offended, tell me she was special, call me insensitive, maybe even try to fight me again. Either way, it’s going to end with you storming off.” I eyed Ray, ready for him to lunge at me in either form. As soon as he moved, I’d go full wolf and rip him up, then bolt out the hole in the back of the fence before he could piece himself back together and come after me.  
Instead, Ray just sat down on the nearest chunk of rubble, and my eyes widened as I stared in surprised confusion.  
“What was I thinking?” He seemed to be talking to himself, and he barked a bitter laugh as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Seriously, it never would have worked with her. I mean, oh, she was _perfect_ , but she’s so fucking _human_.” Ray stood up suddenly, startling me into starting the change, but he just hit the fence, making it rattle noisily, and sat back down before glancing at me. His whole demeanor softened when he saw me halfway to wolf, and I quickly went back to normal, acting like nothing had happened. “Sorry. I just… she’s the first person I ever really _loved_. Why the hell am I telling you this?” Ray laughed in exasperation with himself, burying his face in his hands, and I tentatively sat down next to him.  
“We’re pack. I understand. Even if your friends know what you are, they won’t ever understand. That’s why we stick together.” I hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder, hoping I wouldn’t be clawed or bitten for my trouble.  
Ray flinched slightly, then looked up at me, his eyes dull. “Why do we have to be like this?”  
“Because we must have done something pretty damn fun in our last life.”  



	3. Three

###  **Him**

###    
She was out of her mind.  
That was pretty much all I was getting out of her.  
She was cynical and misanthropic, pretty good with words, and totally out of her fucking mind.  
I sensed a beautiful friendship on the horizon.  
“Fun, hmm?” I asked, rubbing my eyes with one hand. “Hope it was worth it.” I looked up and caught Belle grinning wolfishly in amusement, but she looked away as soon as I caught her, forcing her grin into a smaller smirk. She didn’t seem comfortable being too open around people, so I decided try a slightly different topic. “So you believe all that about past lives?”  
“Why not? I certainly believe in monsters.” She looked back at me again, her smirk cold and almost unnoticeable.  
“Point taken.” I sighed, realizing she would kill any conversation she didn’t want to have. It was about time to give up; I wasn’t even really sure why I was still talking to her. “It’s getting late.”  
“Subtle.” Belle raised her eyebrows in amusement. “See ya around, then.” Before I could say anything, she was already loping across the cracked pavement.  
I scrambled to my feet, automatically reaching out to her though it would do not good, and, without knowing why, called out “wait.”  
She didn’t. She didn’t slow, didn’t falter, didn’t look back.  
I sighed as she disappeared around the crumbling concrete stalagmite that was once the corner of the building, then pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes as I dropped back down to sit on my rock. “Nice job, Ray.”  
  
I steered clear of the bar she worked at for the next few nights, deciding I wouldn’t care. She was just an odd werewolf I’d met and unloaded my generic, “boo, my life sucks ‘cause I’m a werewolf” issues on. She was pack, she would understand.  
I avoided the guys too, though that was unintentional. I claimed to be busy, but I was just locked up in my house, still trying to feel better the way I always did. It was so hard, though, when my house still smelled like _her_. I couldn’t get away, and I was still [s]broken up[/s] _a little_ broken up over the break up.  
It was a full week before Mikey finally convinced me to leave the house, and we met Gerard and Frank for coffee. Everything went smoothly, and none of them brought up anything they thought would set me off. I was a bit miffed that they were trying to tiptoe around my issues, but it was better than having insensitive friends. At least they cared. Maybe they weren’t ‘wolves, but they were pack.  
Two nights later, after having let the guys back into my life and nearly being suffocated by their need to be around me to make sure I was all right (without ever just straight-up _asking_ ), I went out just to get away from them, back to the bar I always went to.  
  
Just inside the door, I realized why it was a bad idea. There was a familiar band onstage, and I nearly turned and ran out the door before I realized that the bassist – Bill, I think – was singing, and there was no one clattering away at the piano. With a sigh of relief, I sat at the bar and turned to blindly watch the people come, live, and go. It was a nice metaphor for my life, for any life, really. People came, had their fun, and left.  
I swallowed the rest of my beer and asked for something a bit stronger, which the bartender sent my way rather quickly. As I turned back to face the room, my eyes caught a figure sitting in the shadows, a nearly untouched drink in hand.  
It was Belle.  
She was sitting in one of the darkest corners of the room, at a high table that she didn’t set her drink on. Her eyes were a light brown, meaning she was cheating and going slightly wolf to see better in the darkness. Belle’s eyes were fixed on the stage as she watched the band play, but she shrugged one shoulder in my direction as if displacing a fly, indicating she was aware and irritated that someone was watching her.  
I looked away, half-wondering why she wasn’t onstage with her band, then crushed the thoughts from my mind. I didn’t care.  
I turned even farther away from her on my barstool, refocusing on my drink and the people around me. It wasn’t easy, what with my mind being lost in thoughts of Christa. There really was _no_ escape from her. She was everywhere. Here, at least. She was in all of my once-favorite memories of Jersey, many fond memories on the tour bus and backstage, even lurking in the recollections of the recording studio. Home was now a haunted house, with her phantom presence possibly the liveliest inhabitant.  
As my thoughts became more and more bleak, my grip tightened on the glass until it finally cracked. It didn’t explode like it did on television, it simply cracked and collapsed slightly, like a seashell someone had the misfortune to step on. A few shards fell, cutting my hand, and the alcohol left in the glass burned as it leaked over my bleeding fingers. I scowled, with a slight hiss of pain, putting the broken glass on the counter and shaking out my hand, scattering droplets of bloody alcohol on the floor. The man already two seats away from me leaned away, then got up and moved to the next seat, as if it made a significant difference.  
I was still cursing under my breath, barely aware of the bartender cleaning up the glass and spill on the counter behind me, when a familiar figure was suddenly in front of me, crouching slightly, taking my hand in both of hers and examining the cuts.  
“You’ll live.” Belle said evenly, suddenly looking up and throwing me off even more as she caught me watching her in surprise. The corner of her mouth twitched up in an attempted smile, and her eyes darkened as they went back to full human. They might have warmed a bit, but it was impossible to tell.  
“Scary monsters?” Belle asked conversationally, nodding to my head as she straightened and slid onto the stool next to me.  
“And super creeps.” I sighed darkly, rolling my eyes.  
“Now’s no time for sarcastic Bowie references.” The werewolf next to me replied airily. “I was being serious, which is a rare occurrence and should be taken, well… seriously.” She nearly cracked a real smile, and I found myself softening, just a little. She was making an effort to be nice, and she _was_ pack, after all.  
I sighed again, ruffling my hair absent mindedly. “Right.” I said awkwardly, wondering just how much shit this stranger was willing to listen to. Even though she was pack, it still felt mad to be unloading all of that on her. I tried to not even mention it to the _guys_. “I loved Christa. I _still_ love Christa. I think I always will, or at least part of me. But… she just walked out. We were together for _years_ , we’d had fights, we made up, we had bumps in the road and made it through, but this… it was just too much for her. She just… she just walked away.” I blinked a few times, still shell-shocked. “And I let her.”  
“Good. If she could just walk away, how much did she really love you?” Belle remarked flippantly, shrugging. It wasn’t nasty, just… blunt. “All you people describe love as unstoppable, unbeatable, something that can conquer anything. Obviously, had you had that with… Christa, you said? Had you had that with Christa, she would still be around. She might have still walked out, but just to think. If she really loved you, she would have come back.”  
“There’s still hope.” I retorted automatically, and Belle looked away from the stage to meet my eyes, seeming not to notice the man who sat down on her other side.  
“You’re just arguing with me. If you believed that, you’d have gone after her.” The she shrugged carelessly. “If-” She was cut off by feedback from the microphone, and Bill grinned onstage.  
“We’re done for tonight. Belle, stay right where you are. You know what’s coming. Sort of.” Bill grinned even wider, his eyes glinting with wicked excitement, and the men onstage all hopped down.  
“They make me come on my night off just to be tortured.” Belle sighed. The man beside her looked over at her, removing his top hat from his long, bushy hair and dropping it onto her head as a distraction before wrapping his arms around her waist.  
“All you do is complain about the surprises we put together for you, but you always love them.” The man half-whined, winking at me over Belle’s shoulder as I just stared in shock.  
  


###  **Her**

###    
The top hat over my eyes and the arms around my waist meant only one thing.  
“Happy birthday, sweetie.” A very familiar voice said softly in my ear, and I let myself grin for real, tipping the hat up and twisting in my friend’s arms.  
“Saul! I missed you!” I hugged him tightly, and he chuckled slightly at my enthusiasm. I could feel him looking over the top of my head (and his hat), evaluating Ray.  
“I missed you, too, sweetie. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” It was painfully obvious to me that he had raised an eyebrow in amused skepticism, and I pulled away to see that he indeed had.  
“No, sir.” Ray said, staring at Saul in shock.  
“Saul, this is Ray Toro. He’s cool.” I said, and understanding flashed in his dark eyes as they flicked from me to Ray. “Ray, meet Slash.”  
Saul shifted, keeping one arm around me as he reached out to shake a stunned Ray’s hand. “’Sup?” He asked, knowing exactly what he was doing to the other guitarist.  
“Not much. ‘Sup with you?” Ray replied, reclaiming [s]some of[/s] his cool.  
“Not much. Just figured I’d come up and help my best girl celebrate her big day.” Saul gave me a gentle squeeze, winking at me, then looked back at Ray. “The boys and I are just going to hang here. Care to join us?”  
Ray looked at me as if for permission, and I rolled my eyes. He was a big boy, he could decide for himself.  
“Saul, have you heard of My Chemical Romance?” When he nodded, I continued. “Ray’s lead guitar.”  
“Are you now?” Saul asked, looking at Ray appreciatively. “You’re not half bad. What’s your weapon of choice?”  
Ray seemed to get more comfortable with every passing second as the topic changed to music, specifically, to guitars. The guys finally made it back from breaking down the equipment, and they came over to collect our drinks and herd us into the lounge marked “employees only.” As the regular band, we got the employee perks at the bar.  
  
Hours later, the lot of us were laughing and joking as if we’d known each other our entire lives. Even Ray was getting along with everyone, and he wasn’t so star struck by Saul anymore.  
“Hey, Saul, how come only she gets to call you that?” Carl hiccupped, and he probably would have died on the spot from the glare the taller man shot him had he not been so wasted. As it were, Jason and Ray shot Carl scandalized looks on Slash’s behalf, and Bill giggled, knowing that Carl was about to get chewed out. I just took another sip of my drink and watched with interest.  
Saul wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer into his side, still scowling at the shitfaced drummer. “She’s my best girl. You’re not.” I smiled, letting my head fall onto his shoulder, my forehead resting against his neck. Saul gave me another squeeze, then returned to his conversation with Ray and Bill, leaving Jason to ream out Carl about what an idiot he was and how he had no respect for the greatest rock legends of our time.  
  
When it came time to hit the road, I was slightly tipsy, and I was glad I had Saul to hold on to. He held my hand as we bid farewell to everyone else outside the bar, only releasing me to let me hug all the men goodbye, including Ray. After I released him, I went straight back to Saul, and the two of us swaggered back to my place. I didn’t have to ask if he was staying over, it was a given, just like I knew he’d stayed the previous night at Bill’s and laid low to surprise me.  
Saul spent the entire way home teasing me about my “love-struck puppy” and the shady apartment building, right down to the color of the hallway wallpaper as we stumbled to my door. I let us in, and the door was barely shut before we both went full wolf and hauled ourselves onto my bed, curling up together and passing out.  
  
The next morning, I felt the sunlight invading my eyelids and wrinkled my muzzle in distaste before slowly blinking back to the land of the living. I lifted my head off my paws for a moment to yawn, glanced over at the large black wolf sound asleep next to me, and went right back to sleep.  
The next time I woke up was a few hours later, because Saul was having some moronic dream and running in his sleep again, making small whining sounds and quietly barking, like some sort of house pet. I rolled my eyes, then bit his ear, making him jolt awake with a startled yelp.  
He looked around in wild confusion for a moment, still half in the dream and somewhat hungover, then saw me licking my teeth smugly and huffed out an irritated breath.  
I nuzzled my head beneath his, and he licked the top of my head, forgiving me for waking him up. Once he was happy, I got up and changed back, not bothering to check whether or not he was watching as I got dressed. When I turned back to the bed, Saul was human again, propped up on his elbows, hidden by the sheets from the waist down. Smiling, he held out one arm, and I went back to him, cuddling up to him. I’d missed being so close to him, and he made it clear he’d missed me, too.  
  
After we’d managed to get out of bed, we sat around in the kitchen with mugs of my hangover cure, though I didn’t need it so much as Saul, having had a lot less to drink the night before. We made small talk for a while, caught each other up on the unimportant things in our lives that only we would care about.  
“So tell me, what brings you all the way out here?” I finally asked. “And don’t say it was me, because I’m just part of it.”  
Saul grinned, knowing he’d been caught out. “It was mostly for you, baby girl.” He reached across the table and took my hand with a wink, making me roll my eyes and pull my hand free to smack his, though I grinned back. “Billy boy called me up and asked me to come by, said Carl was dreaming big again and would I like to have a demo? I said fuck that, I’ll hear you live and come up for my best girl’s birthday.”  
“We get signed, I’m quitting the band.” I rolled my eyes as Saul whined in protest. “I don’t want to be crammed in a studio, on a tour bus, given deadlines and expectations and rules. That sucks.” I wrinkled my nose in distaste for the second time that day. “I like it here, small town, small bar, small paycheck.” I grinned crookedly.  
“Oh, come on, Belle, you’re everybody’s favorite part of the band!”  
“Because all the others are boys.” I deadpanned, and the guitarist across the table from me just shrugged with a shameless grin, knowing I’d hit the nail on the head. “I’m too much of a feminist to deal with that crap.” I snorted as I cleaned up our mugs.  
“Alright, alright.” Saul raised his hands in good-natured defeat, his dark eyes wicked. “So tell me,” He echoed my words from before with a mischievous grin. “What is going on between you and your stray of the week?”  
“Nothing. He’s just moping around, and I’m trying to get him the hell outta Jersey. He’s only here because some chick curb stomped his heart, and I want him gone before he suddenly latches on to me.” I scowled.  
“What’s his name?”  
“Ray Toro.”  
“Now name the last three you helped in the same way.” Saul challenged, raising his eyebrows at me.  
“Um… let’s see. There was… Jack? Yeah, Jack, umm… oh! Matt, and… oh, come on, what’s-his-face, y’know, with the hair like eh?” I put my hand up on top of my head as if it were a tall, spiky mohawk, and Saul just snickered. “Ray’s famous, of course I’d remember his name.”  
“I think you’ve got the hots for him.” Saul teased, and I glowered menacingly.  
“Saul,” I said, a warning in my tone.  
“Belle,” He sang back, not bothered in the slightest.  
“You suck, you know that?”  
“Love you, too, baby girl.”  



	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Incomplete chapter, no more to follow without significant interest.

###  **Him**

###    
Gerard and Mikey took me out again the next night, and I decided not to tell them about the party I’d been sucked into. The decision proved to be a moot point, however, because Gerard spotted Belle sitting with her band after they played, and tried to nudge me into going over.  
“Gee, she’s taken!” I finally hissed, after ten minutes of trying [s]and failing[/s] to subtly shut Gerard up.  
“What?” Gerard asked, sounding scandalized as he looked over at her, Mikey doing the same. He’d been quietly watching our conversation like a tennis match, turning is head to whoever was talking. “She looks single to me.”  
“I met the guy the other night. He’s a little old for her, but… he’s really, _really[/y] cool.” I shrugged nonchalantly._  
“But she so has the hots for you!” Gerard whined. “You’ve got to give it a shot, maybe she’ll dump the loser! Besides, you’d tap that, wouldn’t you?”  
“Trust me, he’s not a loser. I can’t believe you said “tap that.” And no, she _doesn’t_ ” have the hots for me.”” I rolled my eyes, breaking my sentence into separate points so maybe he would understand.  
“Who’s her boyfriend?” Gerard asked as Mikey took a swig of his beer.  
“Saul Hudson.”  
Mikey choked on his drink and spat some of it out, eyes watering as he coughed, drawing disapproving stares from nearby tables and people at the bar.  
“Who?” Gerard asked, absently clapping Mikey on the back.  
“Gee,” Mikey rasped. “That’s Slash’s real name. The guitarist.”  
“No fucking way.” Gerard gaped, and I nodded over to where Belle was sitting. Gerard and Mikey looked over just as Slash himself was pulling a chair up, immediately putting an arm around Belle and kissing the top of her head. She grinned back at him, a real grin, not one of those sarcastic, cold, cynical ones she usually plastered on her face.  
“Shit.” Gee said, staring unashamedly.  
“Holy shit.” Mikey corrected, doing the same as I blushed, wishing the two would act like normal people for once in their lives.  
“Guys, just drop it, okay?” I sighed, and they looked back at me, understanding I didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t _ready_ to talk about it, let alone actually go through with trying to start another relationship. I was still having so much trouble letting go of Christa. I knocked back the last of my drink, the only one I’d had, and stood up. “I need to get outta here.”  
Gerard and Mikey could have stayed, and they knew it, but they got up to leave with me, and I was thankful for it. I shot them a strained smile, and Mikey touched my shoulder for an instant as Gerard winked encouragingly. They really were pack to me.  
We wound between tables on our way to the door, and we’d made it most of the way before we had to pass the table where Belle and her friends were. I thought we were in the clear as I slid past, unnoticed, but of course I was wrong.  
“Hey, Ray. How’s it going?” Belle’s friend Bill said, and I had to stop and turn around to reply. It would be rude to just bolt for the door, as much as I wanted to. It was getting too claustrophobic in the bar.  
“It goes. How’re things over here?” I forced a grin that I hoped didn’t look too fake. “Oh, these are my friends, Gerard and Mikey.”  
“You’re both in that band, too, right? My Chemical Romance?” Slash asked them, and I started hoping that they would act like normal people and not freak out. Wait, no, normal people would freak. I hoped for them to be their abnormal, oddball selves and take it in stride.  
“Yeah, we are. I play bass, Gee’s the singer.” Mikey said with a careless shrug as Gerard nodded in agreement, playing off his speechlessness as nonchalance. I was proud of the both of them.  
“Very cool. I like a lot of your melodies, it’s unusual to hear that in a band like yours, and they really compliment your voice.” Slash directed the end of his sentence at Gerard, but he seemed to be talking just as much to Mikey, which was unusual; the younger Way usually faded into the background.  
It wasn’t long before Gee and Mikey were deep in conversation with Slash and the guys, and we were invited to pull up chairs and join in. The brothers glanced at me, making sure I was okay with it before accepting like the good friends they were, then they pointedly took up the empty spaces to that I was stuck in next to Belle, on her opposite side from Slash.  
“You could look a little less miserable.” Belle said softly to me, studying her drink before taking a sip, then glancing over. She had a habit of doing that, glancing over suddenly a beat after she’d finished speaking, as if she _meant_ to catch whoever she was addressing off guard.  
“Your best friends aren’t trying to set you up before you’re ready for it, _and_ with a chick whose taken.” I retorted just as softly, not bothering to look at her, deciding to try and throw her off, similar to the game she played.  
“Who the hell did they dig up?” Belle snorted, and I raised my eyebrows and looked over at her. “Can’t be me, I’m not a taken chick.” She shrugged, and I nodded at Slash, who was deeply absorbed in conversation with Mikey and Bill. “Oh, _hell_ no.” She grimaced. “Saul’s just pack.” When I gave her a skeptical look, she shook her head. “No, you know there’s pack, like you and me, and then there’s _your_ pack,” she nodded at Gerard and Mikey, “and _my_ pack.” She tipped her head toward Slash.  
“Wait, he’s one of us?” I asked, astonished, and Belle raised her eyebrows, trying not to snicker as she nodded. “Maybe we’re _all_ musicians.” I mused, and Belle laughed.  
“There are exceptions to every rule.”  
“Not our rules. We’re all pretty similar.” I argued.  
“Not all of us are travelers.” Belle argued. “I’ve never left Jersey, and I don’t plan to. The boys want to get signed, and when they do, they know they’ll be down one pianist.” She shrugged carelessly.  
“You’ll just let them all _go_ like that?” I asked. “Won’t you miss playing with them, drinking with them, just… them?”  
“Maybe Bill.” Belle seemed indifferent, but there was no way that was possible. “He’s as close to pack as he can come without knowing.” She glanced around the table at all the laughing, smiling faces. “But not the others, not really.”  
“Do you miss Slash when he’s not around?”  
“Constantly.” Uncharacteristically, Belle admittedly it completely shamelessly. “He knows it, too. We all do.”  
“So why not just go with him? You’re pack, he’d take you.” I shook my head slightly not understanding. “Why won’t you just get outta here?”  
Belle glanced over, amusement sparkling behind the walls in her brown eyes. “Saul, I’m “getting outta here.”” She said to her friend without looking at him, and he touched her back gently with his open hand for an instant. When he removed his hand, she stood up, immediately starting across the room, toward the door I’d bee-lined for earlier that night. “C’mon Ray, let’s get outta here.” She mumbled under her breath, like I maybe wasn’t supposed to hear.  
I followed her for a long time, not bothering to ask where we were headed. She wouldn’t tell me, and it didn’t matter; we would get there, whether or not I knew where “there” was.  
The wolf in me liked the walking; wolves were always on the move in the wild, and there was always an itch that came around whenever I settled in too long. Maybe that’s why there was an apparent trend toward us being musicians, tour kept us on our toes. I wondered absently if any of the roadies were hiding the same secret I was, if I had more pack with me than I realized. Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was.  
I started to wonder why she was so stuck here in Jersey, so unwilling to leave. She was a werewolf, it should be killing her to stay. She should be over the moon about her band getting signed, it would mean tour after tour, always being on the road, on the move.  



End file.
